Art of Seduction
by keem
Summary: In which L wonders if he should practice his self-restraint some more, and Mello is entirely too pretty for his own good. LxMello.


**A/N:** L x Mello is my favorite yaoi pairing from the _Death Note_ series, so I figured what the hell, might as well give it a shot. Here is the end result. Takes place prior to the start of the series. Rated for mild sexual content.

Read, review, and enjoy :3

--

when you get close,

ah, danger senses please beware, it's so unfair

that i'm paying such a heavy price,

by looking at the garments, that you wear so well

i'll kiss you when it's dangerous

- Eight Seconds

--

**Art of Seduction**

--

It's a quarter to three AM, and Wammy House is virtually silent except for the gentle snores of Matt overhead. As the redheaded teen continues to plod dumbly on and dream, the two occupants of the bunk beneath him shift, trying in vain to find a better position. After spending the next several minutes trying to re-arrange themselves beneath the covers, the two finally get it right: L lies with his right shoulder touching the wall, his left arm splayed out and cocked at the angle, his open palm supporting Mello's back as he snuggles deeper into the detective's armpit. The position was entirely too _normal_ for L, and he found it stifling and uncomfortable as a result. He considers telling Mello this, but when he looks down upon the face of the butter-haired teen he sees how utterly content he looks and thinks better of it.

Their relationship is Wammy House's worst kept secret, and both parties are acutely aware of it. L tries to maintain some level of discretion concerning their relationship, as he's pretty sure his reputation as a world-renown detective will only take him so far. Up until this point, the staff has been very kindly turning a blind eye to the whole situation--which he supposes they should, in theory; after all, he practically single-handedly finances the Orphanage at this point-- but it's still only a matter of time before he will have to address the subject head-on.

"When did you get back?" the youth beside him finally asks, his voice muffled by the fabric of L's cotton shirt.

Not that there would be much to address on the matter, but you can't trust people to take your word when you tell them that no, what's going on here is not perversion. (_By who's definition?_ they would ask.) Because although their relationship looks unusual from an outsider's perspective –

"My plane touched down about an hour and a half ago," L murmurs.

--And, well, maybe it _feels_ a little unusual too, to be perfectly honest, but then again, L is notorious for disregarding what others consider social norms--

"And when are you leaving again?" The boy looks up from his position bodily wrapped around L to look the detective full-on in the face. (Mello is always so _forward_.) His eyes are two little beacons of light in the darkness.

It doesn't really matter anyway, L decides. They will never understand. Sometimes, L didn't even quite understand it himself.

"Two days. I've been asked to look into a series of suspicious heart-attacks in Japan."

"I've heard about that!" Mello says excitedly, trying to keep his voice low so that he doesn't wake Matt above them. "There's been some speculation that it might be the work of some kind of mass-murderer. How much are they going to pay you, L? I bet millions!"  
"… Actually, they haven't offered me anything yet. After all, it's not even certain that it is homicide, not just yet." L shrugs, his shoulders brushing up against the smooth warmth of the volatile blonde's skin, which always seems so impossibly _hot._ "But admittedly, I've taken a personal interest in the case as well, and so I consented regardless."

"_Do_ you think it's a work of a murderer, L?"

L simpers in the dark quiet of the room, despite himself. "Of course it is," he says confidently.

He can feel Mello's glittering stare upon him; the unabashed expression of mingled adoration and desire. "He has a clever way of killing," Mello admits after a moment. "Even _I_ don't know how he does it. But he needs to know a person's name and their face, _that _much is obvious."

"Very astute, Mello. I've deduced that much as well." The toe-headed child practically swells with pride beside him.

"Will you let me let me document it afterwards, like we did with the BB murder cases?"

L raises his thin eyebrows. Like a poet, he thinks, singing of my conquests forevermore. "Perhaps," he says, and when Mello opens his mouth to press the matter further, L pushes his index finger very gently against the teenager's lips. "Mello," he says kindly. "Let's discuss this another time. You need rest. Roger will be absolutely livid with me for allowing you to stay up this late. He's going to box me about the ears tomorrow with that cane of his if you fall asleep during your studies."

"_You_ never sleep," Mello accuses.

"Comes with the territory," L says with a shrug. "One day, if you are to assume my mantle, you will be free to stay up as long as you want." Or the stress will keep you up regardless, he doesn't say.

"But I'm _not _tired," the youth protests, and the faint whine of his voice makes Mello sound significantly younger than he actually is.

"Regardless…"

"But L," Mello continues, searching for something to win over the elusive, shaggy-haired detective. "You're only been here an hour!"

"Mello, we have two days," he reminds the successor gently. "That's plenty of time to catch up before I…"

"Two days is_ not_ enough," Mello swears in a breathy hiss, right before he catches L's lips with his own. The sudden assault on his mouth has its desired effect: it startles L, who's lips slightly part in a combination of shock and familiarity, allowing the teenager to explore him further.

"That was a dirty trick," L says a few moments later, trying unsuccessfully to untangle himself from the blond. Mello's kisses trail up to the detective's ear, where he nibbles the lobe gently, and it extracts a hiss from the elder boy.

"Mello…" he begins warningly, as each of his defenses is methodically stripped away.

"L…" Mello pants into his ear, his voice an octave lower than usual. "Please…"

L pulls back and the two regard each other silently. Mello looks at L a half-lidded stare, gaze laden with desire. His breath warm on L's face, and his lips are slightly moist from contact. He is a beautiful and haunting image in the dark quiet of the room, and when his index finger idly travels down the flat of L's stomach the detective loses his resolve completely.

"…Fine," he says at last, yielding, and there is a shadow of a smirk on the youth's face before he leans in to close the gap between them.

L feels the press of the Mello's rosary press into him with enough force to leave a bruised imprint later. And although L is not a religious man by any means, the thought of Christ bearing witness to their unholy communion is vaguely unsettling to him and he considers asking Mello to take it off completely. Immediately after thinking this, he abandons the idea outright – the terms are something Mello would never agree to. The rosary is a means of comfort to Mello, who never takes it off, even when he shower—it is a connection to another world. So instead, he simply grabs the pendant and flicks it over Mello's shoulder just as the younger boy's hands slide down L's chest and reach his worn, faded blue jeans. He begins to undo them dexterous fingers.

L hisses as his pants are pulled down, and reaches blindly out to return the favor. Mello emits a gratified moan as L pushes him onto his back, his hands touching exposed skin, hot and faintly pink to the touch.

"Quiet!" L commands huskily, pressing the flat of his palm against Mello's mouth as the successor's hips begin to undulate on their own accord. Matt mumbles something overhead, and the two deviants pause. They wait a moment, and then Matt sighs and turns over in the bed above them. L returns to the task at hand, but not without a whispered warning: "Careful, Mello. If we're caught, there's a 99 percent chance that Roger is going to do more than just strike me with his cane."

Of course, Mello misconstrues the meaning of L's words entirely and has to stifle his laughter in the crook of his arm. L is once again unpleasantly reminded of how young Mello is, and he idly wonders if he should practice his self-restraint some more. If L believed in such an abstract place like Hell, he was fairly certain that's where he was headed for.

But L _didn't_ believe in hell: he believed in science, justice, and himself. And it was a good thing too, because he has always been lousy with self-control, and Mello was entirely too pretty for his own good.


End file.
